Thither They Return Again
by Armand Malfoy
Summary: Remus and Narcissa in Paris. Pays extreme homage to Hemingway. Standalone.


  
Title: Thither They Return Again   
Author: Armand Malfoy   
Summary: Set after the Marauders graduate, but before Harry is born. Remus and co. vacation in Paris.   
Rating: R   
Disclaimer: I'm not making money off this. I don't own anything. Don't sue me. Etc.   
Warning: Sex, drunk werewolf, French people make small appearances, adultery   
AN: Thank you to Kathryn for being my beta for this fic. Dedication is to the Lady Morghaine for forcing me to write this and teaching me never, ever to phrase things in the form of a challenge. *smirks* Also, Narcissa appears dressed as a flapper in this fic. I know the time period is wrong, but forgive me. I wanted her to be a flapper. I was reading Hemingway. I have more excuses if you want them, just email me asking.   
  
"All the sights of Paris   
Pale inside your iris   
Tip the Eiffel Tower with one glance   
Stained glass cathedrals with one glint   
You smashed it with your eyes"   
- Rufus Wainwright   


The air inside the club was hot and cloying, with the subtle musk of sweat and pheromones underlying the heavier scents of smoke and perfume. It was a good club; the women were good looking and the drinks were cold and smooth. I ordered a glass of red wine and watched the crowd. 

Sirius and Peter were getting steadily more and more intoxicated in the booth I'd abandoned. Lily and James, it appeared, had also opted for vacating their seats, and were dancing at the edge of the crowd. Lily gave a sloppy grin; she was always such a sweet drunk, becoming childish and lethargic after only a few drinks. She reminded me of a well-fed cat, content to lay and be stroked. 

I was watching them dance, and pointedly ignoring Sirius and Peter's attempt to drink themselves into a coma, when I saw her walk in. She'd changed since school, her blonde hair cropped and straight, reaching no lower than her ears, messy and reckless. I liked it. It softened the sharp angles of her face. Her dress was all lines and string, no attempt at accentuating her figure. Still, she was in little danger of looking boyish. 

She became my new focal point and it wasn't long before I realized I had become hers as well. Her pale blue eyes were fixed on me so completely that for a moment I thought she didn't recognize me. But then something flickered in her gaze and she met my stare, her lips quirking in a quick, sardonic smile as she pushed her way towards me. 

"Hullo Remus," she yelled to me over the crowd, her voice as husky and sweet as it had always been. "Buy a girl a drink?" 

I motioned to the bartender and she gave her order. "What are you doing in muggle Paris?" I shouted to her. 

"Lucius is visiting his cousins." 

"I didn't know he had family in France." 

"He doesn't. He's in Holland and I ran away for the duration of his absence." She grinned at me. "I say! It is stuffy in here, isn't it?" 

I nodded. "Want to leave?" 

"Alright. Where are we going?" 

"Anywhere. Just, let's go." 

Outside the club the air was cooler, and the feeling of sweat evaporating gave it an extra chill. Still, it was a nice change. She slipped her hand into mine and we walked slowly along the empty street without talking. I was just about to suggest that we go back to the club when she spoke. 

"Let's go to your flat." 

"What?" 

"Just for tonight. Please?" 

"I'm…I'm staying at the Chalet Bourgeat." 

"Then take me there." 

I looked at her, really looked at her for the first time that night. She looked haunted, her mouth drawn in a sharp line and her eyes lacking the familiar crinkle of her smile. She looked older. I nodded, moving to hail a taxi. We'd both had a few too many drinks to apparate safely and I was glad when she didn't argue, sliding complacently into the back seat. I followed her in. "Le Chalet Bourgeat," I told the driver and we started off in silence. 

We didn't speak again until we were standing outside my rooms and I was fumbling with the keys. She stood, arms crossed defensively, staring down the hall. "Will your friends miss you?" She asked. 

The door swung open under my hand and I stepped in, holding it for her. "No. We leave separately most nights." 

She nodded and followed me in. She stood an inch higher than me, I realized with a shock. It must have been her shoes, I reasoned, glancing down at the spiked heels. She had been shorter when we graduated. "Let me get you a drink." 

"Anything you've got," she replied, moving to stand by the window as I rummaged through the mini bar. 

"How long is Lucius going to be out of England?" I asked as I handed her the drink. 

"Another week, I think." 

"Why'd you come to Paris?" 

"Paris is Paris," she said, typically vague and downed the drink in one go. "I was looking for you." 

"Me?" 

"Oh I don't know Remus! I missed you. We used to have such fun." 

"Yeah." 

"Don't be rotten." 

"I'm not. Really. I just don't know what to say." 

"Then don't say anything," she set down her glass. "Kiss me." 

She tasted like alcohol and honey, her mouth hotter than the humid buzz of the club. I pushed forward, suddenly desperate to be devoured, lost in her again. I felt the scratch of her nails as she threaded her fingers through my hair, pulling me closer. Her tongue raced over my lower lip, swift and pointed like a kitten's. Then she stepped back, just when she had me, her eyes heavy lidded and her pupils wide and dark, eclipsing the blue. 

She stepped out of her shoes like she was stepping down from a pedestal and suddenly she was just the way I remembered her, small and sweet and utterly, utterly mine. That was, of course, the illusion. She didn't belong to me anymore now than she ever had. I knew that now, as I never had before. 

"Don't think," she whispered, claiming my mouth again and pulling my head down. 

I groaned and took a step forward so that she was forced backwards and closer to the bed. My hands sought the clasps of her dress without my really being aware of it and the next I knew she was stepping out of the silky black thing and unhooking her bra. She wasn't wearing underwear, I noted in amusement. I slid my mouth down to her neck, stepping forward again, and again until I felt her hit the edge of the bed. 

"Remus…" Her fingers slipped from my hair, sliding down to work on the buttons of my shirt. Her hands reached in, spreading over my chest, the slight scratch of metal unthinkably disillusioning. She must have felt it too, because she dropped her gaze. "I wish to hell I'd never even heard of Lucius Malfoy!" 

"Don't mention him," I murmured, nipping lightly at her neck and cupping her breasts in both my hands. "Don't even think about him now. Not with me." 

"No, no." 

She had succeeded in pushing my shirt off my shoulders and had moved down to work on my trousers. I growled as her fingers brushed my erection through the thin fabric. "Cissa…" 

"Yes." 

"Cissa." I kissed her hard and pushed her backwards, shedding my pants and climbing on top of her at last. Her long legs spread to accommodate me, thighs parting under the pressure of my hips to cradle me again in their familiar heat. I pushed down, experimentally, and was rewarded with a satisfactory flutter of her lashes, her treacle sweet moan. 

Slipping down her body I applied my mouth to her collarbone, letting my teeth scrape over the delicate white skin there. Then lower, tongue pressing hard against an erect nipple, lips pressed to the underside of her pale breast. Lower, and my cheek brushed her belly, my lips smoothed over a flat stomach and the scent of arousal was nearly overwhelming to my heightened senses. I could taste it, almost, just a few pale inches down and I definitely could. Strong and thick, and tasting of very little. I felt her gasping under me, the muscles of her abdomen clenching reflexively as her hands tugged sharply at my hair.   
I returned to her mouth easily, forcing my tongue past her lips as my hand worked its way between our bodies. She was gasping hard under me, losing control as I slipped one finger into her, crooking it to press against her from the inside. She gave a short cry, hands tightening in my hair. Two fingers, remembering how incredibly tight she is, and she just moaned and turned her face away from me. Three, forcing her to look back at me, eyes set afire and blue flame engulfing us both. I was lost, already so gone. 

"Now, now please," she gasped. "I want…want…come inside me…" 

That was all it took. I withdrew my hand, wiping it on my boxers as I removed that last barrier between us. The last barrier that was mine to remove. Resting my weight on my elbows, I moved my hips closer to her, positioning myself with one hand so that the tip of my cock nudged against her entrance. I licked my lips, glancing down at her mouth as I slid in. Her lips parted, soundlessly, and her back arched into me, taking me deeper inside. 

It wasn't going to be long, I knew, and I thrust hard into her again, drawing a cry from her small mouth. Dropping my head I took one rosy nipple between my teeth, biting hard. She groaned, finger nails scratching long red marks down my back as I continued to thrust. 

It felt like hot, wet silk, like nothing in the world. Under my lips she tasted divine; all perfume and sweat and powder, sweet and artificial. Her little cries and gasps were nearly drowned in the watery sound of her pulse in my mouth as I sucked hard on her breast, scraping teeth and tongue to draw a higher frequency of moaning gasps. 

Her body went rigid under mine, and she gave a sharp cry, jerking under me as she climaxed. A few sharp thrusts and I followed, biting hard on her collarbone to muffle my shout. Rolling over, I gathered her in my arms and fell asleep. 

The sun was shining through the window when I woke up again. She was gone, I thought at first, but then I heard her moving in the bathroom and relaxed. Not gone, just not here. She emerged a moment later, dressed and washed. She looked absurd now, in the light, wearing those tall shoes and that straight black dress, her hair all chopped and wheat gold. She looked like me. Haunted. 

And suddenly Paris wasn't so much fun. Suddenly it wasn't such a great idea to just run away and see the world, because what about those of us that couldn't run? What about her? There are some walls that cannot be forced down, some barriers more impenetrable than castle walls; not the least of which circled her dainty finger. 

She smiled apologetically and walked towards me; and I knew in an instant that we were all going straight to hell. Me and Lily and James and Sirius and Peter and her most of all. A lost generation. Scattered to remote countries and far off cities, trying to escape what was part of us to begin with. 

"Was I wrong to come here?" She asked, her voice low and unsure. 

I reached up and ruffled her ridiculous hair. "When have you ever been right?"   
  



End file.
